


Nothing But Understanding

by Wind_Writes



Category: Cursed (TV 2020)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:20:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25537210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wind_Writes/pseuds/Wind_Writes
Summary: Everyone needs a person to take them just as they are... and to patch them up when they turn against everything they've ever known.
Relationships: Lancelot & Percival (Cursed), Lancelot (Cursed)/ Reader, The Weeping Monk & Squirrel, The Weeping Monk | Lancelot (Cursed)/You, The Weeping Monk/ Reader
Comments: 15
Kudos: 108





	Nothing But Understanding

The tune from the bard’s lute hummed beneath the scraping of stools and clattering of steins, the lyrics lost amongst the chatter of drunken laborers who had come to drown out the misery of current times. The tavern smelled of horse and man, the stench strong enough to make those of finer tastes turn their nose up at the door and retreat from the establishment in search of something more respectable. 

As a child the tavern had served as a place of refuge, an escape from the streets that you would have otherwise called home and now, as an adult, it provided you with a freedom few women of the era would ever know. 

You laughed along with the men that sat at the bar as a blacksmith and woodworker duked it out over a game of dice. You had worked painstakingly hard to make a reputation for yourself amongst the patrons of the tavern, locals and travelers alike had been won over through years of hard work and hospitality, your sex becoming an insignificant issue when good ale and hearty laughs were served regularly.

The bond between you and the men that drank here grew stronger through the years; you provided them with an escape after a hard day’s work and, in some cases from nagging wives, and in turn they looked out for your wellbeing. You had weathered the storms of unrest and riots, years of depression and poverty, disease and death with the help of these men and now you found yourself coming up against a new beast, one with divine backing. 

Rumblings of the Red Paladin making circles near the village in search of the hunted Fey had begun to make the rounds, blood staining the woods and outer dwellings in search of sinners and you knew it would be only a matter of time before they came barging in and destroying everything you built in search of things they believed you harbored.

Movement at the main door drew your attention from the pints you were pouring, irritation bubbling in your blood when the hooded figure caught your gaze before making his way to the back corner of the room, a young boy in tow behind him.

A hush settled amongst the patrons as all eyes were on the newcomer, a few even jumping from their tables and hurrying from the tavern. Fey and humans alike feared what the hooded man represented and you wouldn’t be surprised if those leaving were sounding the alarm to those within the village walls.

Whispers began to grow amongst the crowd as some checked for the weapons they carried at their side, as if making sure they were prepared for a fight they knew was coming. The tavern had seen its fair share of scuffles, but you had no intention of allowing a holy war to break out amongst drunk men and the man in the corner, even if he was the enemy of many.

Uncomfortable with the growing tension in the room and wanting attention drawn elsewhere, you slammed an empty stein on the bar top, pulling focus from the monk to the front of the tavern.

“Next round is on the house boys!” You exclaimed into a sea of cheers, gaze sweeping over the crowd before locking with the one hidden beneath the hood.

Motioning to your help to start filling, you added an extra stein to the tray you had been prepping and made your way across the ale soaked floor. Dropping a round with the visitors that had rode in from the North, you carried the last mug to the table claimed by the newcomer.

Given the current climate, he was the last man you’d been expecting to walk through the doors. It was no secret that you served human and Fey alike, it was one of the few taverns that did, but up until today the monk has steered clear of your establishment despite that. You liked to think it was out of mutual respect and friendship, after all you never fought him on his chosen path despite your disdain for the church, but perhaps you’d been wrong all these years and his presence here meant your relationship was about to take a turn for the worst.

His dark gaze tracked you like a beast watching its prey, his features void of any discernible emotion as you pulled up beside the table. The unknown boy, however, watched you with fearful eyes, unsure if you were friend or foe and primed to run if the latter was true. The child’s presence threw you for a loop and piqued your curiosity; there seemed to be no hostility between the pair and the boy appeared to look to the monk for protection when rumblings started amongst the rest. Protecting the child certainly didn’t mesh with the current narrative that followed the Red Paladin’s most effective weapon, but when it came to this man there was always more beneath the surface than one would assume.

The air around them hung heavy with the musky smell of travel, a faint tinge of iron hit you and the blood stained clothes of the monk confirmed the travel had been less than pleasant. 

Gaze sweeping over the pair, you settled a cold glare on the older man, venom lacing your words. “What’ll you have?”

His lips tipped up in a smirk despite himself. When he had realized just what tavern they had ended up outside of, he’d expected your normal dose of irritation, but this was the first time he’d been met with such temper.

“Not the warm welcome you're known to have,” he quipped, body shifting in an attempt to ease the pain in his side. 

You didn’t miss the way he moved in his seat, or the way his breathing hitched now and again. The man was obviously in more discomfort than he was willing to let on, but you intended to voice your annoyance with him before offering the help you knew he came for.

“I don’t appreciate you waltzing into the main room and stirring up trouble in my place of business,” you bit out.

He was well aware of the rules when it came to coming in here and his carelessness could ruin you. The tavern was a place for all kinds and if it got out the feared Weeping Monk was welcome with open arms, you would be done for.

Teeth clenched in irritation, the monk did his best to keep an even tone, though his anger was easy to see. “That’s how it’s going to be after all this time?”

“Thought your kind didn’t venture into places like this,” you continued as if he hadn’t spoken. 

The monk growled. “And what kind is that?”

“Of the red paladin variety.”

Just their name on your lips made your blood run cold. No matter what your relationship was with the man in front of you, Father Carden and his merry band of murderers were a stain on this land and they needed to be stopped.

“I am not-“ A heavy sigh passed his lips and he dropped his head, hood hiding his features. “We have parted ways.”

You felt the anger begin to subside at his admission, concern taking its place. If what he was saying was true, if he had truly forsaken the Red Paladin, it wouldn’t be long before they were calling for his head. And the heads of anyone who harbored him.

“Who is she?” the boy interrupted, his green eyes jumping from the monk to you and back again. 

Pulled from your thoughts, you focused on the small Fey child. “I could ask you the same thing.” 

“I’m Squirrel,” he declared confidently. 

Charmed by his innocence, you placed the extra stein you’d brought in front of the monk and shifted so the boy had a clear view of the bar.

“Well Squirrel, if you go through that door behind the bar, I bet you’ll find something sweet to hold you over till you get a real meal,” you enticed, head motioning to the lone door when his green gaze lit up with excitement.

A smile spread across your lips as the child scurried for the back of the bar, the prospect of sweets more important than any danger that could be lurking in the strange place he’d found himself in.

Shifting once again to try and get comfortable despite his injuries, the monk waited till Squirrel had disappeared through the doors to address you. “I just got on my horse and rode. I didn’t know we were headed here-“

You raised your hand to silence him. “How bad.”

A sigh of relief passed his lips, as if a weight was lifted from his shoulders. “I’ll survive.”

The corners of your lips quirked, a sad smile gracinging your features as you gave his frame a final once over, confirming for yourself that he wasn’t going to bleed out all over your table. 

“Your regular room is available. I’ll be round with some dressings after a while,” you said, doing your best to curb the worry that threatened to shake your voice. “Till then, drink a bit.”

Pushing the stein closer, you gave him one last fleeting look, then turned back towards the rest of the patrons. “It’ll take the edge off.”

A faint chuckle met your ears as you retreated behind the bar, but you refused to look back and let him see the concern in your eyes. 

* * *

Cheers and shouts from the tavern below carried up the dark stairwell, your late night patrons attended to by your help while you saw to more pressing matters in the rooms you kept above.  After a hot meal and a second sweet for good measure, Squirrel had unapologetically claimed the bed in the room beside yours and swiftly fallen into a sound sleep. Not wanting to wake him, or traumatize him more than he’s already been, you took to mending the monk in your own quarters.

Settled on a milkmaids stool you’d plucked from the neighbors barn, you steadily worked to stitch the worst of the monks injuries with just the light of a candle to guide you. Bowls of red tinged water and scraps of cloth cluttered the floor beneath your feet, the room slowly starting to look like a healer’s hut the longer you worked. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched your patient glare at the bare ceiling, the muscles of his jaw jumping as he ground his molars in frustration. Despite the physical pain he was experiencing, you knew his demeanor had nothing to do with the stitches and everything to do with whatever moral battle he was fighting in his head. 

Wanting to pull him from his own head, you spoke matter of factly while moping at the blood that seeped from the wound you were working on. “Circling through the same thoughts over and over again isn’t going to give you a different answer.”

“Did you pick up a gift since the last time we saw each other?” He muttered, sucking a breath through his teeth as you tied off the last of the stitches. 

You chuckled. “No gift. Just years of ale pouring and an aptitude for knowing when someone is hurting.”

“Why not just ask what happened,” the monk questioned as he slowly sat up on the bed.

A groan passed his lips when he moved to swing his legs over the side, the effort more than he realized but the pain was subsiding and the bleeding had stopped thanks to your handy work. 

Wiping the blood from your hands you watched the monk for a moment, making sure none of the stitches popped. In the back of your mind you had a sneaking suspicion that the church was responsible for the damage, after all it would take a skill greater than most had to land a blow on the munk, but you wanted to hear him confirm it. 

“Who did this to you?” You finally asked.

He didn’t hesitate. “The trinity guard.”

The emotionless admission left a cold pit low in your stomach. No matter what your opinions were on the campaign against the Fey, the church had been the monk’s family most of his life and to have them turn on him in such a fashion was bound to leave a lasting impression. 

Suspicion confirmed, you rose from your stool and stretched your tired back and gave him a sad smile. “Safe to assume the church isn’t pleased with your change of heart.”

“I didn’t-“

You stopped his denial before it could pass his lips. “Pretty sure the church doesn’t try to kill those who follow orders.”

A grunt of acceptance was all the monk could muster. Eyes downcast, the monk focused on the mess that scattered the floor; he knew he had taken a hit in his fight with the trinity guard, but up until now he hadn’t realized how severe it had been.

“And the boy?” You continued as you carried an armful of supplies to the makeshift table you’d set up, dropping the bloodied cloth amongst the mess that had collected there.

Brows furrowed, the monk watched you fiddle around with scraps of clean linen before taking up the stein you’d brought with you. He had been so tied up in his own problems, he’d almost forgotten the sleeping Fey child in the next room.

“What about him?” The monk asked, unsure where your question was heading. 

Eyeing him over the rim of your mug, you rolled your eyes. “How’d he end up with you?”

“They were going to kill him,” he muttered. 

The scene from camp flashed in his memory. Fey or not, a child is an innocent and the death of one at his hand was not something he would permit. It was all thanks to the boy that they had made it this fart; without the child’s encouragement he had been ready to take death into his heart and accept the fate that was waiting for him.

“How’d they get ahold of him in the first place?” Settling beside him on the bed you offered him the mug, taking another pull for yourself when he shook his head. “I can’t imagine he has any information worth holding him for.”

The monk rubbed at the stubble on his chin, uncomfortable with the conversation at hand. “He’d come to camp trying to rescue another.”

“Another?” You questioned.

A heavy sigh passed his lips, his unease with the answer obvious. “The Green Knight.” 

The name felt heavy on his tongue, as if it was a sin just to speak it. It was because of him the monk’s future was now up in the air. The Green Knight was responsible for planting the seed of insecurity and he was the reason the monk felt as if he was lost at sea with no rescue in sight. 

“And what has become of him?” You asked as innocently as possible. You didn’t take pleasure in digging for information, but information like this would prove important for certain customers. 

The monk dropped his chin, his hair obscuring the side of his face and, hopefully, preventing you from seeing the storm he felt brewing within. “I don’t believe he is of this world anymore.”

Silence filled the room as you processed the information. You’d never met the knight, only heard stories of him, but it was well known he was the protector of the Fey. With him gone what would become of the dying race.

Chancing a glance, you watched the monk. Jaw set firm, you didn’t miss the way the muscles jumped as he ground his teeth, or the way he clenched his fists as the silence dragged on. The fate of the man who was supposed to be the enemy affected him more than you’d expected.

“That bothers you.” Offering up the observation as if it was nothing more than a weather forecast, you finished off the ale you’d been holding. “You won’t admit it out loud, but something has changed for you.” 

“He knew,” the monk muttered, surprising himself with the admission. 

Your brows furrowed, not sure what he was talking about. “Knew what?”

“That I am not like the rest.” His admission was barely audible.

The corners of your lips quirked, the Fey were no fools.

“People know their own kind,” you offered. As adamant as the monk was about denying his heritage, he couldn’t hide his history from the people he came from. 

A low growl was all the monk gave you in response. 

“The ways of Father Carden are no longer something you can turn a blind eye to,” you continued. You had tried when you both were young to show him what the Father was asking of him was cruel, that love didn’t come with a stipulation but your reasoning had fallen on deaf ears. Perhaps now he would see the truth.

The weight of your words hit him like a punch to the gut. 

“If I turn my back on everything the Father has taught me, then what am I!” He exclaimed, the implications of your words bringing out the emotions he had tried to keep corked. The monk ran a hand through his disheveled hair, voice shaking as he pinned you with a broken look.“Without them I am nothing but a demon with no redemption in sight.”

The way he spoke made your heart ache. What it must be like to live a life thinking you are only good as long as you reject every part of who you are.

Grasping his hand in yours, you smiled at him when his tortured eyes met yours. “I would say that little boy in the next room would disagree with you.”

“I’ve killed his people,” the monk scoffed. How could anyone, man or child, look at him and see anything but a monster.

“You also saved his life.” You countered. Intertwining your fingers with his, you settled a steady gaze on his troubled one. “That, Lancelot, is the start of redemption.” 

A half hearted smile graced his lips, only you would see the saving of one Fey child as the start of redemption. He gave your hand a squeeze, the weight on his shoulders a little lighter despite what lay ahead. “Been a long time since anyone has called me that.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest, his smile a glimpse of the young boy you’d met all those years ago.

“Yes well,” pulling your hand from his, you gave his cheek a fond pat and rose to clean up the rest of the mess you’d made, “I always found the other alias far too dramatic.”

Grabbing your wrist, Lancelot tugged you back to the bed, stopping just short of pulling you back down beside him. “You are a rare one,” he whispered, his hand reaching up to tuck hair that had escaped your braid behind your ear. “Not sure why you stay around.”

Touched by his words, you rested your lips against his brow for a moment before pulling back, a soft smile on your lips. “Because everyone needs someone in their life that asks nothing of them but understanding.” 

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing for this fandom. Hopefully you will see more! This is cross posted to Tumblr- I am @worriestothewind there.


End file.
